


No Mere Woman

by laceofstars



Category: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Gen, Spoilers: Warden's Keep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 03:52:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4989193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laceofstars/pseuds/laceofstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The taste of darkspawn blood is foul in her mouth, and she spits, steadying herself against the burnished metal of her staff. Gaze stony, she watches him march into the Keep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Mere Woman

  
I am the woman who spared Duncan’s murderer.  
  
Alistair left the room like I disappointed him. The sunlight glinting off his armor and for once, he looked like a King. But that is Grey Warden armor, slipped from the decaying corpse of Sophia Dryden.  
  
He should know better.  
  
I am no mere woman. No mere woman mage. I am a Commander of the Grey.  
  
When next I see him, I am covered in darkspawn blood, and he is respectful. I kneel, because he is King, and much loved by his People. But as he receives my devotions, I glance upwards at his face to catch his attention. When I have it, I hold it with a smirk, daring him to remember the last time I granted him this favor. As he stutters, I rise.  
  
Anders catches the interlude, and I confirm his suspicions with a lingering look. The mage is useful, so I keep him. Perhaps Alistair will lay beside his wife tonight, the one with a haunting face, and think of us. Anders is also a blond, so it won’t strain the King’s admittedly modest imagination.  
  
Perhaps I am being disingenuous. Jealousy laces my comments like poison, and my stares are as cold as the ice that wreaths the battlements of Vigil’s Keep. Yes, I am resentful of that man, now that he is not by my side. Where he should be.  
  
I will not admit to the hurt he caused.  
  
Instead, I will lure Anders to my bed, and scratch my nails down his back, and his blood will get on my sheets. Instead, I will battle darkspawn, thrilling in the taste of dust and sweat on my tongue and the snap of magic within my veins. Instead, I will make these Amaranthine nobles bow before me, directing soldiers to their lands as I protect them, and slipping daggers beneath their ribs when they spurn me.  
  
I am the Commander of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, and no mere woman.  



End file.
